


An unfamiliar home

by Sustraiak



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Book 4: The Raven King, Introspection, M/M, POV Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 22:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sustraiak/pseuds/Sustraiak
Summary: Adam's first night with Ronan in the Barns.Moonlight, questions, and impossible bodies.





	An unfamiliar home

**Author's Note:**

> Original Spanish version [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427137)

“ _Like the moon, I want to touch places just by looking._ ” --Anne Michaels, from “Skin Divers.”

 

Adam woke shortly after. He was surprised to even have fallen asleep. It was like having been carried away and h e was there, tied to the m oment, without a second to rest.

 

The moonlight came through the bedroom window, giving the space a bluish glow, mysterious and warm, like an unfamiliar home. He got up from the bed and looked outside. The animals were still mulling around, grazing peacefully, or settling down in a bed of fresh grass. The Barns looked more like a forest than a house, not exactly because of the arbitrary presence of all kinds of creatures, but because of the complexity of the lives intertwined in the space.

 

Adam turned over to Ronan. He was sleeping in a calm, almost tender position. His eyes rested, still behind the eyelids. He wasn’t dreaming. Adam thought about what it would be like for Ronan to visit a dream, to experience the desire but without the power. Maybe something he needed, but Adam wasn’t good at pitying the privileged. Ronan moved his hands and placed them before his body, open before Adam, though entangled in the incongruity of the involuntary position. Adam sat up at the edge of the bed, put his own hand close to Ronan’s and studied his fingers. He’d put them in Ronan’s mouth again and again during the night, while Ronan squinted with surrender and bit the marks of his joints and ran his tongue over the roughness of his fingerprints.

 

He couldn’t say what he’d felt at that moment; to feel would have been to let his mind interpret, and in his mind were just his own fingers, those teeth, the exact place where they fell, and the marks they left when they pressed, the wild sound of their breaths. It wasn’t something he could judge, just the rawness of the facts.

 

He hadn’t imagined that sex between two guys would be like that. He had, somehow, prepared himself for Ronan to guide him in particular practices, with a certain technique, so to speak. Adam imagined that the long toxic getaways with Kavinsky had given him the experience, and they weren’t the only stories he could imagine. Ronan was intense and impulsive and as deep as a crack born from the violence of the earth.

 

However, Adam couldn’t describe with words, not even remember with clear images, how the sex had been between Ronan and him, barely a couple of hours ago. The awareness of his body had disappeared, as if he suddenly had three legs, or ten arms, or none of that; rather, nothing of his own. Eyes closed and drops of sweat in his mind, and his body entangled with Ronan’s as though it was made of another material; Ronan, full of desire and desperation, and he, full of awe and love. 

 

Yes, maybe in the midst of images of impossible bodies, Adam had felt a resounding love for Ronan. Not a love like the one Gansey talked about, concrete and ritual, but the love Adam used to feel lacking, the broad and decisive love that binds life and welcomes in a home. The longing for living in the Barns had taken him over fast and cleanly, and this scared him far more than the desire for Ronan, for Ronan’s body, warm and concrete and defined most of the time.

 

Adam gazed once more at Ronan. He liked to see him surrounded by his things, he liked to see him sleep calmly and satisfied, he liked to be his company. However, he couldn’t trust himself that he wouldn’t hurt him. Gansey’s words kept scratching his throat.  Adam was quite aware that he was capable of hurting, as he was a person who had been hurt. He hadn’t always enjoyed the privilege of love, not even the time for tranquility. He heaved a sigh, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, and left the room.

 

He went down the stairs, illuminated by touches of moonlight, and stepped into the living room. Orphan Girl slept huddled on an armchair, her little body curled up on itself, breathing loudly. He wondered whether that would be her usual territory or she would use any of the rooms. He wondered what her daily life with Ronan would be like, whether they would have their meals together, whether they would hug or whether they would play often. He wasn’t sure what kind of care she needed, or what position she exactly held in Ronan’s life. Adam sat on the arm of the next chair and watched her sleep for a while. He guessed she would be fine there, surrounded by colorful cows, angelical children and other fantasy creatures. After a while he got up, picked up a blanket and laid it gently over her. Orphan Girl gave a little kick. Adam shrugged, smiling.

 

The kitchen floor sent him a shiver up his bare feet. He opened the fridge and served himself a glass of milk. He went out to the porch and sat down on a bench, putting his feet up on the seat and his knees against his chest. Some of the animals gave him a glance of indifferent survey. Adam wondered whether Ronan had paid his rent in Saint Agnes out of love, or it had been out of guilt; Ronan could be a lax catholic, and Ronan could be a hardcore catholic. It wasn’t even something that depended on the moment, but two facets that usually coexisted in his actions. Adam was helplessly attracted to both facets. He took a sip of milk. At that moment, he clearly wished it had been out of love.

 

He went back inside and finished the glass of milk down the hall. He left it in the sink and filled it with water. He left the kitchen and then stopped. He went back to the sink and washed the glass. In the living room, Orphan Girl had tangled herself up in the blanket and was chewing at a corner. Adam noticed a strange energizing heat flowing through his muscles, and a slight but clearly perceptible sense of euphoria. He thought of the milk, bottled in a jar without a label, and smiled, shaking his head. Damn Ronan and his dream drugs.

 

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, and not because of that caffeinated milk, though that wouldn’t help. Ronan was too turbulent and too delicate to just lie down at his side. He climbed the stairs and went back into the bedroom. Ronan was still in the same position. Adam took the chair from the desk and sat down on it, next to the bed. At that moment, Ronan opened his eyes, which shined blue against the paleness of the darkness.

 

“Parrish,” he said, his voice hoarse and calm. “You okay?”

 

Adam nodded, blinking slowly.

 

“And you?” he said, resting his elbows on his knees. “Wait. Ronan, I’ve drunk that milk that was in the fridge.”

 

Ronan laughed, and didn’t say anything else. Then he sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the mattress and his head in his hand.

 

“I’m good,” he then said, in a subtly meaningful way. His eyes shined more than the moon. “Not in the mood for sleeping?”

 

Adam shrugged. He didn’t want to encourage a resumption of the activity in the world of the living; he didn’t want to go to bed. He wouldn’t dare to do it, either. He didn’t actually want life to go on and to be aware of himself and to have to make either a risky or a painful decision. He didn’t want the room to stop being quiet so he could remember Ronan’s body in a never-ending present. But Ronan’s eyes shined more brightly than the moon. Adam sighed.

 

“Lynch,” he said, simply, and it was kind of painful that the word filled his chest with heat.

 

Ronan waited patiently, lying on his back with one hand behind his head.

 

“Orphan Girl is asleep on an armchair of the living room,” Adam said suddenly.

 

Ronan shrugged.

 

“She can do what she wants,” he said, putting his finger absently to his mouth and nibbling at the skin next to his nail.

 

Adam looked at his own fingers; Ronan looked at them as well, and rested his hand back on the sheet. Adam shivered. The damn milk was giving him tachycardia. 

 

“Lynch,” he repeated, not knowing how to continue.

 

Ronan didn’t wait this time.

 

“You wanna go for a drive? Wanna go to Cabeswater?” 

 

His voice sounded confident. Adam, surprisingly, found it one of the best options available. A well-known interaction scene what was he needed, the unmaking monster matter stayed slightly in the background.

 

“Yeah,” he said, getting up. “Alright.”

 

Ronan nodded and sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. It took a few seconds for Adam to realize that he was naked. He didn’t look away as Ronan got up and reached for his underwear. He had already seen that body, and it was late. He had already kissed that body, and it was late, and they could go to Cabeswater in the middle of the night and it was late, and he could listen Gansey’s annoying preaching, and it was late. It was late, and it was so late in the night and it was so late in his life for him to try to stop the sea with a dike. Adam felt flooded. Maybe it was late because of all that had already happened. Maybe he already knew that Cabeswater was Ronan’s dream when he offered it his hands and his eyes. He waited for Ronan to put on his underpants, grabbed his wrist, and hugged him as though he finally forgave himself. Ronan held him tight, Adam searched for his lips.

 

“Lynch,” he said, one more time.

 

Ronan looked at him, understanding.

 


End file.
